I bolted from the house mid-morning to get a run in – even though it ended up being much more a walk. I decided to go up the giant hill in our neighborhood, partly because I knew it would be good for me and partly because I had never gone that way before. I’ve gone to the end of the sidewalk, which stops abruptly before the crest, but never continued up and over. According to my running app on my phone, it’s a 5.1% grade for a half-mile. I would tell you it feels like a 90 degree angle that goes on forever, especially when when you’re about 2/3 of the way up and looking out over the city below, trying to catch your breath and decide if you can even make it the rest of the way.
But I did make it, and I followed the sidewalk back down on the other side to intersect with my normal weekend training route. All through the path I took, I kept marveling at how spring is already starting to show its face here in the south. The henbit is springing up, reminding me of how I used to pick bunches of those tiny purple flowers and take them to my own mother. I saw wild onion sprouts (yes, used to dig those up as well as a child), daffodil and crocus leaves and buds, creeping myrtle already in bloom, and that lovely white blossom above on a common underbrush plant that I have never heard anyone identify.